


Heaven Incorporated

by Langerhan



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bureaucracy, Daydreaming, Fantasy Fulfillment, First Time, Multi, Office Sex, Other, Sexual Experimentation, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21888808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Langerhan/pseuds/Langerhan
Summary: Michael is the first one of them to be granted a corporation. Her fellow ineffable beings are fascinated by it.
Relationships: Gabriel/Michael/Sandalphon/Uriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme





	Heaven Incorporated

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=1544281#cmt1544281) on the meme, although the fill is less _inspiring impure thoughts_ and more _these nerds have never seen a human body before and are fascinated by it_. 
> 
> I couldn't find a font for Enochian, so I just used distorted IPA. Don't worry! You're not meant to understand it! It adds nothing to the text! 
> 
> Many thanks to [SugarMagic](/users/SugarMagic/) for being my first ever beta.

In the Beginning – although they don't currently know it as the Beginning, having no knowledge of the Middle or the End – there is a call, and Michael answers. She's away for hours, or possibly years; time is yet to be invented.

Gabriel worries. He taps part of himself ( _fingers_ , supplies a voice that sounds like Michael's in the part of his mind that knows, is connected with it all, _they're going to be fingers_ ) on his desk and then moves the whole of himself ( _walking, you use legs for it_ ) around his office. Michael will be fine. Of course she will. She is a whirlwind shadow of wings and swords. She has beaten the enemy and will beat them repeatedly. If their Creator has something else planned for her, she will face it bravely and she will be _fine_.

Gabriel worries and Gabriel waits.

Later, when Michael enters his office, the shock of realities crawling over each other stills him. Here is Michael, the warrior, who slew thousands without rest, without even stopping to clean her sword – and here is _Michael_ , a thing of limited dimensions, formed without halo or wings. It takes time for him to lay the two on top of each other (although how much time is uncertain, for reasons previously discussed).

“G̴̝̗̽̚l̵͓̿æ̶̥͍͑ḋ̶̪͛ ̵̧͎̈́̀ṱ̴̞̋ů̴̦̞ ̷͉̙͋̆h̷̨̭̋̆æ̵̫̑́v̸̺͎̌̍ ̶͙͈̌̇j̴̙͠͠u̷̝̔͆ ̶͓͚̈́̅b̴̹̆͘æ̶̰̖̾́k̴̯̱̓̽,” he says faintly instead of surging forward and gathering her in his arms against the pressure building in his mind.

“Glad to be back,” she replies. “I imagine you have questions.”

There are questions he has that he won't ask. Queries in images he hopes she won't sense. Since the Fall, they've been trying to stay professional; there is work to do and there is something coming and if they hold each other in mourning they might never part. He asks the sensible ones instead.

The conversation is stilted. Yes, the body is something new they're working on. No, they haven't quite figured it all out yet. Yes, she can still feel things – just about, it's a limited connection, limited senses with which to interpret the others. She's still herself, just a version of herself tucked away small, with all the parts of her that tore and terrified hidden into a different plane.

Gabriel stares. The new body is close to his. The new body is close to their Creator. Different from what it will need to become, and not quite there, but close to something he can almost taste.

The new body could be _close_ to his. He imagines Michael letting him explore its curves. In his mind he builds her armour to protect all the parts that are now soft, and he kneels before her. She gives him permission, make the words with her teeth and tongue, lips moving around them and breathing air out to give them sound. He slides on the sabatons, thinking of all the tiny moving parts beneath her shoes. He straps the greaves round the curve of her calf and trembles as she puts her intricate new _fingers_ at the top of his head. He protects this gentle body, modelled for something he doesn't yet have a word to name, and she thanks him for it.

“Anything else?”

“N̴͇̓ơ̴̰̞ʊ̶̠,” he says, shakes his head, “n̶͙̽o̴͎̥̍ʊ̴͇͖͛ ̴͚͘θ̴̛̯͖͛æ̸̰͒ŋ̸̢͂̋k̸̪̹ ̷̰̇j̵̖̈́̑ų̷̃͋.”

He hasn't been listening to half her answers anyway. He will just have to navigate the new connection for anything else, and he's happy to learn how to reach to the part of her underneath the flesh that's still celestial. Maybe she can do a presentation, he thinks, and is cheered by this. An illustrated presentation where she walks them all through the most cutting-edge part of Creation.

“Happy to,” she says, smiling gently, “I'll see you then,” and she lets herself out of his office.

Sandalphon is trying something new when Gabriel finds them. They saw the blueprints for Michael but they know that's not how these things will always start, so they're building the journey. Cells knitting together and creating something new. Delicate bones floating in the frame. Gabriel watches in fascination as this strange, grotesque little blob gets closer to what Michael is walking around in.

“B̷̯̿ɪ̶͔̻̈́̅ˈ̵̳̍ľ̵̺͝ʌ̴̫̎͐v̴̢̯͘͝ḍ̷̹̍,” he says, reaching out to them. The blob's design crumples into nothingness.

“B̷̧͎͠r̸̝̝͂͆ʌ̴̤̔ð̷̤́ə̷͖̐̄͜,” they reply, “j̶͕͕̉ǔ̴̫̕ː̶̧̼̅̾v̶͍͓̑ ̵͚̓s̴̘̳̉î̸̭̪̕ː̷̞̓͗n̵̠͖͝ ̷̮̒ˈ̴͇̟͂m̶̟̪̅̌ả̴̲͚ɪ̴̠̒k̵̦̬͑̑(̵̧̦̎ə̴̗̾)̶̰̤̇ľ̸͖͇͐?̷̰̎̀”

Yes, he admits, yes, he's seen Michael, walking around in a brand new corporation more complicated than anything else designed before. One that's been designed by the Creator Herself. It has in it the spark of something Gabriel can't quite explain other than to say it's beautiful. That Michael is beautiful.

“My ears are burning,” Michael says, her heels clicking on a floor which wasn't there before she'd decided to walk on it. “Good start, Sandalphon, but that's not going to fit in this.”

Sandalphon hadn't realised how tiny she would be. If they had hands, they could pick her up in one without any effort.

“Have you had a look at the uterus blueprint? It has a capability ratio in the annotations, you know.”

They could unpeel the clothes to see what it really looked like, cells joined, blood running, jolts of electricity sending signals up and down. They could stroke up and down to see how she reacted each time.

“You might want to consider leaving a gap at the top here – not sure how it's going to fit through otherwise.”

They could watch her flush pink, start gasping as they explored how well _nerves_ worked.

“Sandalphon?” Michael looks slightly pink in person now as well as in Sandalphon's mind. “Look, if you're that interested, I'll be giving a talk in Conference Room ₪. You should come along.”

As she walks away, Gabriel shrugs. “ˈ̴̳̑̇S̶̜̝̋ɑ̶͇̜͛̿ṛ̸̓̄ͅi̵̘̯͐̾ ̵̰̗͛ˈ̵̱̓ḅ̵̾ʌ̶̡̛̩d̶̡͕͝i̸̟̔,̷̨̻͝ ̷̗͘ȃ̴̡͆ɪ̷̛̰̤̾ ̵͈͊̔ʃ̸̪͌ʊ̴̯͉̓d̷͇̄̒ ̶̘͝h̸͓͒̐͜æ̸̈́͜v̷̡͚͝ ̵̣̜͒ˈ̶̢̪̈́m̴̘̎̏ɛ̶̺̉n̵̤̂ͅʃ̴̻́ə̶̠̚n̶̤̏͋d̸͇̙̕.”

Uriel doesn't know why her project is needed and she still has faith. She knows she must find a way to make the heart beat faster, the lungs breathe clearer and the eyes see brighter.

(Something to do with love, she knows. On the battlefield she used to protect the tired and the terrified, and this seems like it would be useful for that, but maybe the whole war was love too.)

Michael has volunteered to help.

“You'll all be incorporated soon too,” she says. She sits on the bed with her legs folded, waiting for Uriel to start. “I've seen yours, Uriel. It is,” she pauses, and Uriel thinks her heart is beating faster, “magnificent. Truly in the image of the divine.”

Uriel's wings arch against her will. She almost knocks a beaker from the counter.

“Well,” Michael says cheerily, rolling up a sleeve, “let's do this.”

Uriel's fire laps round the veins running up Michael's arm and she feels them thrum. Like harp strings, she thinks, vibrating under her. She could play Michael's body like an instrument, have her twist and turn underneath her flame and light. She could help her sing the Creator's praises even in the flat language her mouth is now confined to. She could press the two of them together – she could have her on the battlefield, she realises with sudden glee. Pictures her own corporation pressed up against Michael, swords singing.

“There we are,” Michael hums gently, “I can feel that.”

The two of them step back and forth, weapons clashing. Uriel touches her lightly on the cheek and she bleeds red, bright and jagged against her skin. She wipes it against her pretty sleeve and lifts her sword again.

Uriel reads her temperature. It's risen slightly.

When she swings it's with more power than this corporation could possibly have, and Uriel realises Michael's still able to access her grace. She pushes Uriel off-balance and steps forward to knock her to the floor.

Blood pressure has increased within safe limits.

Uriel's sword skitters away. Michael puts a foot on her chest to stop her rising, and points her blade towards her sparring partner's face. Her hair has come loose from its pins and she's pink, her shoulders shaking, beads of sweat forming on her brow. The cut on her face is dried but there's darkening red smeared across her cheek.

“H̶̰̦̉ạ̴̈́ʊ̴̢͠ ̴̻͔̋ɑ̴̝ː̵̬̀ ̸̦̑̈́j̷̢͈̉̎ǘ̴̗̐ː̵̼̺̓ ̸̳̫̆ˈ̵͚̋̒ͅf̵̨̊̉i̷̦̣̓ː̷̹̬͐̾l̴͎͇̊ɪ̸̟͗̕ŋ̸̝͉̔?̶̦̣̍̕” Uriel asks. The Michael on her table has started to shake too.

“Too much,” she gasps, and Uriel presses urgently to her veins again, filtering her blood through fire until she's back to normal. It's a few minutes of shaking and panting before Michael is composed again and ready to go on her way.

Conference Room ₪ is the smallest of the conference rooms, but there are only four of them and Sandalphon has kindly bent a few dimensions to fit himself in.

“Thank you for meeting with me here today,” Michael says, preparing her first slide. “I know you're all very curious about Heaven's plans for Creation. Well, I'm here to tell you that corporations are the way forward, and they're going to let us get much closer to a project I'm sure you'll all be excited for.”

Even though her corporation is limited, she can feel the love radiating from the three other angels. She is beloved. They are fascinated. They want to touch, to play, to explore, in many ways which echo from before the war, when they would be able to sit as one.

She clicks through to the next slide.

Her audience is listening but her audience also has mastery of the cosmos and are therefore perfectly able to daydream at the same time. She speaks about strategies, proactive user focus, and full immersion. They think about letting down her hair, bending her fingers, and cupping her breasts.

The last slide is titled _Practical Demonstration_ and Michael is very proud of it. “You'll all be granted corporations soon, and you'll all become aware of the sort of urges that come with them. They need to be touched – much more so than your current needs, although we should really talk about those too at some point. For now,” she says, unbuttoning her blouse, “we're going to explore all the different things this sort of body can do, for the sake of informational completeness.”

Gabriel surges forward to help her with the buttons. Uriel catches her hand, rubbing her palm and each of her fingers in a way that makes her groan. Sandalphon strokes downwards until her curls fall halfway down her back, then brushes up against the wave of her hair, his wings encompassing her entirely.

From all three of them she can feel overwhelming _love_. Her eyes start to water, and it's not the light or the fire but the surge of protective care as they explore every inch of her new body.

Uriel warms her, rocking her backwards and forwards in flames that dance across her skin. Michael can feel her mapping every vein and artery, checking where the blood is coming from and where it's going. She is suddenly aware of her heart beating faster than it usually would. She wants to be _touched_ , a desire that Gabriel steps forward to fill. _Beautiful_ , she can feel one of them whisper, and _beloved_ from another, _bright_ and _blessed_ and _brave_.

Conference Room ₪ is out of use for an immeasurable amount of time.

“Well,” says Michael, buttoning up her blouse, “I think that was a positive meeting. Everyone feeling more at ease with the prospect of becoming incorporated.”

“N̸̘̖͛͗o̶̱͙͐ʊ̸̧̐̚,” mutters Uriel, but Michael knows she's lying. She's seen what their corporations will look like and, on the basis of everything they've just discovered, she thinks they all have a lot to look forward to.


End file.
